


How Sweet It Is

by CarolinaNadeau



Series: The Music Man: The Happily-Ever-After [3]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Clandestine canoodling, Courtship, Dancing together, Dashing former conman, Defrosting Ice Queen, F/M, Fireman's Ball, French Kissing, Happily ever aftermath, Heavy Petting, Kitchen cuddling, Neck Kissing, Paroo family domesticity, Playing Cupid, Romance via candy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, love bite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1339483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolinaNadeau/pseuds/CarolinaNadeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after he's spent several months as an honest and fully reformed man, Harold finds that being a gentleman isn't always easy… but he's determined to be worthy of Marian's trust, no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Sweet It Is

Peeling potatoes with his beloved while standing in her mother's kitchen should not have been an activity that stirred up any romantic thoughts – but Harold Hill was so in love that there was scarcely a moment he spent in Marian's company that did _not_ feel romantic to him.

Sleeves rolled up and arms splashed up to her elbows in water, a few strands of blonde hair falling out of her chignon into her eyes, she probably did not think that he found her beautiful at this moment, yet Harold was so utterly charmed by her that he was having a difficult time concentrating on his own task.

No matter how inexplicably sentimental he might have been feeling, though, this was most likely _not_ an appropriate time to ask her on a date. There'd been posters for the Fireman's Ball all around town ever since July, and, once he'd made the choice to stay in River City with Marian, Harold had assumed that they would be attending together, at least, as long as she felt inclined to attend at all. Still, the music professor was never one to miss out on a chance to perform a grand gesture to demonstrate his love, and now that it was October and the dance was quickly approaching, he had frequently considered how he might ask her to join him – but he'd been putting it off, always wondering if a better moment might arise. Yet for some reason, as he watched her now, he was so captivated that he suddenly could barely resist extending the invitation at last.

Harold decided that he would finally ask her after dinner tonight, as even he knew that it made little sense to bring up romance over peeled potatoes. Yet thinking of the dance at the Opera House brought a different question to his mind that he simply couldn't resist asking, even though it would betray the nature of his intentions, as he'd been baffled by it ever since he'd first seen those posters.

"Now, I've been wondering about something," he said, setting a peeled and washed potato atop the towel on the counter and reaching for another. "Tell me, if River City never had a trace of music in it before I came here, save for your piano lessons – well, why does it have an opera house?"

Marian laughed and shook her head. "I rather think that the name was wishful thinking by someone who wanted desperately to convince himself that River City possessed some degree of high culture, and that it was the sort of town where not _all_ of the dances were held in barns," she said. "I assure you, we've never had an opera. The opera house is nothing more than a venue for the meeting of the various town committees and councils, or the occasional gathering such as this Fireman's Ball. And 'ball', isn't that a lofty term as well for something that's not the least bit grand!"

"Have you ever been to one of these dances?" Harold inquired, genuinely curious – although he winced a little as he realized how that must have sounded to her, not meaning to dredge up memories of her years as a social pariah.

"In River City? I think you already know the answer to that question," she responded coolly. "Certainly I did receive a few _offers_ every time a dance rolled around, offers not suitable for a young maiden's ears nor repeatable by her tongue. So I can't say that there was ever any question of me actually attending. I didn't want to face any more harassment than I was bound to receive anyway, so I kept myself well away from any event where men might be especially likely to see me as a target." The librarian let out a huff and rolled her eyes, but, with that out of her system, she looked at him with a small, grateful smile. "That all feels like a lifetime ago, now, of course. I have no reservations about attending one these days."

Despite her reassurance, a surge of anger flared up in Harold toward those who would dare treat his sweet lady as if she were some kind of object for their lecherous pursuit – and then just as quickly felt his hot fury turn to cold guilt as he recalled the unspeakable offers that _he'd_ been wretched enough to throw her way hardly even three months before. In particular, there had been quite a vile proposition involving caramels that now weighed heavily on his conscience. How could she stand there and denounce those men while praising him in the same breath?

The music professor had so thoroughly buried himself in finding the right thing to say to communicate his remorse for everything that had ever happened to his dear librarian that he failed to notice that she had abandoned such heavy subjects entirely, until he realized that she had stopped peeling and was simply watching him with a mischievous expression on her face.

"Well? Are you asking me, or am I getting my hopes up for nothing?"

Dismissing his doubts for now, Harold grinned back, ready to match her teasing blow for blow. "Will you say yes?"

"I'd consider it," she teased, giving him a little bump with her shoulder since she could not touch him with her wet hands.

In return, Harold sidled closer, kissing her cheek before he spoke again. "Of course, I know that a pretty gal like you must have some other options – will I have to convince you?"

She looked up at him with such sincere adoration then that he felt his heart constrict even in the middle of all their playful joking. "I can't imagine who could give _you_ any competition," she answered softly.

At that, he couldn't resist her any longer – he quickly dried his hands off so he could slip them around her slender waist and pull her close, her stray tendrils of hair brushing against his cheek. "I'll do my best to impress you anyway," he promised, before leaning in to steal a gentle kiss from her warm lips.

When they parted, Marian was blushing and clearly a little flustered over the fact that he'd just kissed her full on the lips with her mother only a room away, but she still had it in her for one more impish response before returning to the task at hand.

"I'll look forward to it."

xxx

Years ago, Harold – who'd called himself Gregory in those days – and Marcellus had spent a good amount of their time together talking about plans. Their plans never stretched more than a few weeks into the future, but every intricate detail had been vital. After all, anything that went slightly wrong could mean prison or worse. Looking back, of course, Harold could acknowledge that years and years of highly profitable success had made him recklessly overconfident – there was no authority who could not be evaded, no skeptic who couldn't be convinced, and no woman who couldn't be seduced. Sooner or later, that complacency would have led to a mistake that proved fatal, and he thanked his lucky stars that Marian had come into his life to save him from that inevitable outcome.

Harold had usually been the one to advise Marcellus in their swindling days, as he'd been older and spent more time in the business. While Marcellus could certainly come up with some brilliant and insightful ideas, Harold always knew just how to guide the younger man through any difficulties the pair might face, and, a bit arrogantly, he'd enjoyed the way that Marcellus would hang on his every word.

Now it was Marcellus who had the jump on Harold, however, when it came to transitioning to honest living and earning the love of a good woman. Months and months before Harold had ever set foot in Iowa and met his match, Marcellus had renounced crime and embraced small-town life, and he'd already negotiated many of the hurdles that had distressed Harold as he'd begun settling into River City. While Harold still had to figure things out for himself in the end, his erstwhile shill had a few tactics up his sleeve that he'd used to talk _himself_ out of those dilemmas, and he had a knack for knowing just what to say to bring the new music professor through his various crises.

It was Marcellus, for instance, that had first made it clear to Harold that he had no reason to fear marriage. On a stormy day back in August, the reformed con man had sat in the stable with his former shill and poured out all of his doubts about making a permanent commitment to one woman, wondering if he was cut out to be so much as a decent husband, if he even had it in him to live a life free of trickery when he'd thrived on it since he was barely out of his teens.

And Marce, in all his blunt, unvarnished honesty, had simply turned toward Harold after he'd finished this explanation and struck to the heart of the matter: "So you think that someday, you'll wish you'd up and left River City before you got in too deep."

In an instant, the words had set a fire flaring up through Harold. "I would never leave Marian," he had responded in outrage, springing to his feet. "Nothing in my entire life has made me as happy as she does – nothing else ever will. Maybe I'm still uncertain about the future, but I know that it _has_ to include her."

"Then it sounds like you know what you want," Marcellus concluded, spreading his hands wide with a grin on his face, looking as if he'd been angling for this outcome from the start. "And it sounds you're doing a lot of worrying over a lot of nothing."

Harold could only stare at his friend in dumbfounded amazement – he'd suffered weeks of torment over this, and all he'd needed all along was somebody to startle his true feelings out of him so he could see it clearly? True, it wasn't as if a single conversation could banish all of his misgivings for good, but whenever those doubts began to resurface, simply reflecting on Marcellus' words could keep him grounded when he felt inclined to argue with himself about those same old things.

Today, when Harold stopped by the stables, he had nothing on his mind except saying hello, but as soon as he saw his former shill, he could tell that something was up – completely abandoning the horse he was grooming, he darted over to Harold's side, almost bursting with the excitement he was attempting to hold in.

"I did it, Greg – I ordered a ring," Marcellus confided in an urgent whisper.

"Congratulations, Marce!" Harold exclaimed, throwing an arm around his friend and patting him on the back. "You're a lucky man. And my God, how things have changed, that I can say that – the two of us both so eager to settle down and get hitched."

"Well, we found ourselves a couple of real great girls," Marcellus responded, his eyes glazing over with a faraway, affectionate look for just a moment before he turned to the music professor again, a wry grin back on his face. "Hey, if you're so eager, why haven't _you_ bought a ring yet?"

Harold kicked at the ground a little as he contemplated how to answer the question that he asked himself every single day. "As much as I want to ask Marian to marry me, I just can't do it until I can prove for certain that the band is here to stay. I guess you don't have to worry about that kind of thing, so you can ask her any time, right?"

With a shrug, a little of the joy ebbed from Marce's expression. "It's not so simple as all that. I mean, Mrs. Paroo and the little kid worship the ground you walk on, but Ethel's sister Myrtle barely tolerates me. Now I don't know for sure, but I suspect she's tried to convince Ethel that being with me ain't such a great idea. Or if she hasn't yet, she sure will if we get engaged."

"I guess it's because of me, isn't it?" Harold said, growing sheepish as the reason for this became clear in his mind. "You were just another honest, hardworking fella as far as anyone in River City was concerned, until I showed up and blew your cover."

Marcellus shook his head. "But it wouldn't have been right for me to go on hiding from Ethel forever. If you hadn't come to town, I wouldn't have had any reason to complicate things by telling her that I used to be a crook. I could have lied to her my whole life, and I probably would have. It's better this way, even if it's not as easy."

"If there's anything I've learned over the past few months, it's that the best things don't come easily," Harold reflected. "But I think that makes everything more rewarding, too."

Returning to the large bay horse he had been brushing before, Marcellus resumed his task – presumably to hide the hint of a blush that was stealing across his round face. "Yeah, to know that Ethel knows what I am – what I was – and loves me anyway… well, I don't think that there's any doubt that a gal like that only comes along once in a lifetime."

The music professor grinned, his heart warming as he thought of the woman that _he_ could describe that way. "Oh, you don't have to tell me."

"Now, if only I could figure out a way to get a sister-in-law that won't hate me, and everything would be perfect."

"You're talking like a man who _didn't_ base his entire livelihood on getting people to like him," Harold noted.

Marcellus snorted, running a hand through his hair. "Greg, I'm not gonna con Ethel's sister."

"I'm not suggesting that you con her into anything. It's just that it's not a bad skill, even in honest living, to figure out what people want, how to make them happy. Do something to make Myrtle Toffelmier happy, and she'll see what a good man you are, regardless of what your past was like. Give her something that she really wants." He paused, drumming his fingers on his knee as he considered possible plans. He knew nothing about this woman, but nobody could hold a grudge against somebody who'd brought something as wonderful as love into their life, he thought, and he was aware that Ethel's sister was not married, either… "Why don't you get her fixed up with somebody?"

The younger man nodded slowly as he let the idea sink in. "Hmm, not a bad idea. Of course, it has to be with somebody that she'll definitely like, and who'll like her, or I'll look worse than ever. Damn good thing she never knew that I tried fixing _you_ up with her. God, I don't know what made me think that _that_ would've been a good idea."

With a pang of guilt, Harold remembered the reason why he'd so vehemently rejected that offer, and it astonished him how ridiculous his line of thinking at that time seemed in hindsight. He'd dismissed Marcellus' offer because Myrtle Toffelmier had sounded far, far too virtuous and pure for his tastes, the kind of woman who would look for romance and marriage and certainly not a romp between the sheets, not like the woman he'd really wanted – Marian. Really, he could barely believe that he'd _ever_ been blind enough to see the librarian as a crafty sadder-but-wiser girl when it was now so obvious to him that she radiated purity of heart and mind and soul from her every word and action, but, then, he hadn't been the only one so deluded.

Of course, his lovesick ramblings weren't going to do Marcellus any good right now, so Harold kept his thoughts to himself. "I think it worked out best for all of us that your idea never went any further than it did, Marce," he answered at last.

"Maybe I'll talk to Ethel to find out the kind of fella that her sister likes, and then I'll drop a few hints in his ear. And with the dance coming up, he'll have the perfect opportunity to ask her, if he wants to!" Marcellus mused.

"That's the spirit. Can you imagine how great it would be if they end up falling in love? She'll see you as the man who changed her life, and that should be more than enough to make her understand that you deserve Ethel. There isn't any reason for Myrtle to talk her out of marrying you then!"

Marcellus slapped his fist into his hand with a gesture of confidence. "That's it, then. Feels good to be working together on a scheme again… although with an awful different goal in mind, this time!"

"Yeah, and the results will keep you happier for a hell of a lot longer," the music professor said, laughing. " _And_ there's no chance of anybody trying to kill you."

"I think Myrtle already _would_ like to kill me, so this can't possibly make it worse. I just consider myself lucky that my greatest enemy nowadays is a Sunday school teacher who wouldn't hurt a fly." The besotted, faraway look came into Marcellus' eyes once again. "Well – I consider myself lucky for a _lot_ more reasons than just that."

Harold grinned. "So do I, Marce, so do I."

xxx

Certainly, he was happy for Marcellus, but Harold ended up leaving the livery stable feeling far more uneasy than he had when he'd arrived. Earlier, he'd been happily anticipating the Fireman's Ball without any concerns weighing on his mind, but now he was once again haunted by that unpleasant feeling he'd had the other night when Marian had spoken of her past. His conscience stung as he remembered the sort of things he'd been thinking about the librarian when he'd turned down a date with Myrtle Toffelmier… not merely fantasies, but expectations by that point.

_Offers not suitable for a young maiden's ears nor repeatable by her tongue._

Such as, for instance, the time when he'd approached her in public, the day after they'd laid eyes on each other for the first time and she'd already made her disdain for him quite clear, and barefacedly asked her to join him in his hotel room on the thin pretense of sharing candy? Knowing her as he did now, he could scarcely understand why she'd even given him a second look after he'd treated her so despicably.

He knew she'd forgiven him for those days; she'd told him over and over again that she had complete faith that his transformation was genuine. And, though Harold often wondered if he could ever be good enough for her, he knew beyond a doubt that he _must_ have changed completely if only because of the utter revulsion that he felt for his old self.

But nothing could ever be enough to erase what he'd done. Nothing could change the fact that he'd hurled one more indecent offer into the face of a young woman who'd endured far too many in her life; no matter what he'd given her later, he'd first given her one more reason to believe that men were only after one thing and could not ever be trusted.

Now Harold wanted to give her something else, no matter how small, to show her that he had not forgotten the sins of his past – but also to make it entirely clear that his intentions were to make up for them in every way that he could think of.

He needed a clever little scheme of his own.

xxx

Every time that Harold saw Marian, his heart leapt a little bit with a swell of affection for the woman that he adored so completely – but tonight she looked so stunningly beautiful that he thought his heart would burst.

On the night of the Ice Cream Sociable in July, she had stolen his breath away when he had first seen her gorgeous face framed by those charming banana curls, looking youthful and carefree and radiant, illuminated by some inner happiness that he would soon realize had been given to her by _him_. And when she had turned to him on the footbridge, her visage glowing with the only genuine and honest love for him he had ever seen, Harold was certain in hindsight that his heart had decided in that very moment that he would never leave her, even though it took his mind a little while longer to comprehend that reality. The image had been impressed on his mind as indelibly as a photograph, and he often saw her that way even when she was dressed in the most prim and sensible of her everyday garments.

And now tonight, she had set her hair in banana curls again, was clad in an airy lilac-colored evening dress that seemed to flutter lightly around her yet hug her figure at the same time, and Harold was just as awed as he'd been on the night of the sociable – but unlike that night, there were no uncomfortable secrets between them, no uncertainty about the nature of their relationship nor the tension of limited time, and the dizzying rush of adoration that he felt upon seeing her was a feeling to be embraced, not feared or pushed away.

That thought filled him with joy, and he was struck with the truly ridiculous impulse to run to her, to lift her up by the waist and twirl her around, then pull her laughing lips down to his and kiss her. A terribly impractical and improper idea, of course, and even if he could have gotten away with such an action, he would have looked like an utter fool… though he was beginning to accept that love _had_ transformed him into a bit of a fool, and he really didn't mind at all.

As he watched the librarian descend the steps of her porch, Harold sternly reminded himself that he was a gentleman now, and that he most certainly should not be noticing the way that the fabric of her dress clung to her breasts so perfectly _–_ and he _definitely_ should not have been imagining tracing her lacy, scalloped neckline with the tips of his fingers or how exquisitely warm and soft she would feel.

No, he would have to contemplate those matters in more detail once he was safely out of her company. Not exactly the conduct of a perfect white-knight gentleman, but God, he wasn't made out of stone!

These thoughts all cycled rapidly through his mind, but apparently he actually had been standing there gawking at her for some time, because Marian approached him with a questioning but amused expression in her eyes.

"Are you planning on speaking any time tonight, Professor, or will you be conducting our date through pantomime?"

Harold cleared his throat a little as he attempted to answer her. "I apologize, I just – you look very lovely." He winced at his clumsy words, wondering why he couldn't have come out with something a bit more debonair – but he was used to her ability to leave him breathless and speechless by now. "Is that a new dress? At least I don't think I've seen you in it before, have I?"

Marian nodded in affirmation, rolling her eyes heavenward with a smile. "Mama _insisted_ , seeing as this is to be my first dance with a beau. She behaves as if I'm sixteen rather than twenty-six sometimes!"

He had long been aware that he was Marian's first and only sweetheart, but hearing her say it like that amazed him all over again. Harold thought of all the men who surely would have done anything to be her beau _–_ not the leering, accosting men she spoke of, but all the earnest young gentlemen who surely must have pined after her in her adolescence _–_ and found himself awed by the idea that not only had she ultimately chosen him, but that for some reason, he was the only man she'd even deemed worthy of consideration. _Marian_ , who could have had any eligible man in the world falling at her feet with a single look from those long-lashed eyes.

As if she'd read his mind, the librarian shook her head in admonishment when she caught sight of the expression on his face.

"I'm not sorry about any dances that I may have missed out on in the past, Harold. I don't need any silly memories of awkward teenage paramours to make my life complete. Having you and only you suits me just fine." She leaned in and pressed her warm lips lightly to his cheek. "I'd rather have waited a long time for my kisses and have them be _good_ kisses – and kisses that truly mean something."

"Well, I hope that I can more than make up for all of the years that you've waited."

"For the dances – or the kisses?" Marian teased.

Harold grinned. "For _everything_."

The librarian let out a pleased laugh, and there was a certain glimmer in her eyes that made Harold suspect that she would not have minded a few of those kisses right now. But, as they were not in a situation where that could possibly allow for kissing, she tempered that urge and turned modestly away.

"Perhaps we ought to get going?" she suggested.

She took a few steps down the walk, clearly expecting that he would be moving in that direction as well, but Harold suddenly remembered what he'd forgotten to do.

"Wait, darling, I have something for you," he said, placing a hand on her arm to halt her while he rifled through the pockets of his suit coat with the other.

Marian turned and gazed at him incredulously, her cheeks coloring a little. "Oh, Harold, you really shouldn't have, not for such a little thing as this!"

"Well, the present is a little thing as well," he assured her, producing a small box and pressing it into her hand.

She giggled as if she didn't know how else to respond. "What _–_ "

"Caramels," Harold explained. "Given free of any obligation or expectation, yours to do with what you will."

"That's quite the fanfare over a few sweets!" Marian laughed, her eyebrows raised. "You make it sound as though you're entrusting me with a family heirloom."

Uncharacteristically, the music professor felt a little heat rising to his face. Was it possible that his idea had missed the mark so completely? "Oh, um, you don't remember when I _–_ "

The librarian's expression changed in an instant as he spoke, all at once serious and deeply affectionate.

"Of course I do," she answered with quiet intensity. "I thought of that right away, actually, but I didn't know if _you_ remembered as well. So it's true – this isn't just candy. I think I know what it means, and it means very much to me, Harold."

"When you talked about all of the men who treated you so contemptibly, I couldn't forget that _I_ was one of them, and I need to make amends for that, no matter what it takes, though this is nothing more than a step in that direction. Nowadays, I want to be the sort of man who _gives_ you what he has. No trickery, no manipulation, no lies."

Marian gave a quick shake of her head, placing a hand over his to reassure him. "You've never treated me that way, not since _–_ well, not _since_."

"Good. And I give you these to remind you that I never will," he reiterated, his voice firm.

He felt a little foolish when he really thought about it – the little tin of candy couldn't compare to the engagement ring that she deserved. But he'd laid a small note atop them, a simple _I love you, Marian_ , that he hoped would give her something to hold onto, and he hoped that she would not cast it aside. He'd imagined that she might use it as a bookmark, so she'd carry a reminder of his devotion with her always, even though there was no ring on her finger yet.

Indeed, Marian noticed the tiny card within moments, and she took it delicately between her fingers, a smile spreading across her face.

Though there was always the chance that they could be seen, Harold couldn't help but wrap his arms around her for only a moment. "I love you," he reiterated softly, wanting very much for her to hear the words aloud from him just then.

"And I love you, darling." She tucked the card into her purse, her features alight with joy. "I trust you, too. And, while I don't _need_ you to prove that to me –" she gave him a light kiss on the cheek " – I'm very happy that you want to. There's nobody in the world I'd rather have accompanying me to this dance."

He _knew_ that she trusted him, had known it for months, but somehow, this reminder was the most important thing in the world right now. For a long moment, he simply held his beloved in his arms, immeasurably grateful for the undeserved chance she'd given him to redeem himself.

Then, reluctantly ending their embrace before he risked making a spectacle out of them, Harold stepped back again until he was holding only her hand, hoping that his sudden onrush of emotion would not be too evident. He didn't want to weigh _her_ down with his own stubborn self-doubts, after all – and if she truly no longer held his past against him, he supposed that he ought to believe it.

Although, he noted as Marian tugged his hand to lead him down the walk way and turned to him with love and affection shining in her hazel eyes, there were a lot of things about his dear little librarian that seemed almost too wonderful to believe – and yet they always proved to be true.

xxx

The "ballroom" at the Opera House was undeniably rustic, but, like everything in River City, Harold saw a certain charm in it. The large room had been decorated in swaths of crepe paper in autumn colors (for once, this task had not fallen to the Events Committee – Marian had informed him that the firemen's wives had been the ones to arrange everything at this event), and beside the dance floor was a long buffet table covered in pies and other seasonal desserts, as well as quite a few little tables at which the partygoers could sit down and eat. The overall effect was probably not that much different than one of those barn dances above which certain River City-ziens were so staunchly determined to elevate themselves, although this event was not in the least bit rowdy or raucous like Harold imagined a barn dance might be.

Since the two of them had entered the room, Harold had been searching the room for Marcellus, but he noticed that Marian's eyes were settled on one couple in particular, and he followed her gaze with interest.

At first he thought that she was merely looking at Jacey and Cassie Squires, but then he realized that the far more surprising sight was the couple with whom the Squireses were conversing – the bachelor of the school committee, Olin Britt, had a woman by his side. A slight, olive-skinned brunette, she looked almost as different as could be from her sister, Ethel, but that was precisely why she was so recognizable.

_So, Marcellus must have found out what – or who – she wanted after all,_ Harold thought, and he tried not to smile, lest the librarian sense there was something afoot.

"I've never seen Olin Britt accompanied by a lady in all the years that I've lived in River City," Marian whispered _sotto voce_ , sidling a little nearer to him so he could hear. "I've heard he's not even glanced at a woman since his wife died almost twenty years ago – and now look at him and Myrtle Toffelmier, the two of them looking happy as can be! I wonder what happened to cause that."

"Yes – that certainly is strange." He'd spent the majority of his life lying and deceiving with skill, and with anybody else, he could have kept his cool without a second thought, but Harold was utterly unable to keep any secrets from Marian – blushing wasn't in his nature, but in that moment he could have sworn that he felt heat rushing to his face.

Sure enough, she turned to him with playfully narrowed eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. "You _know_ something about this, don't you? Is this something to do with Marcellus and Ethel?"

Harold waggled his eyebrows back at her and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll never tell."

"I'll know by the end of the night," Marian declared, waving a dismissive hand in his direction, and Harold felt a swell of affection at the way that she so perceptively and relentlessly pursued any truth that she sensed was being kept under wraps. Her investigating eyes found Marcellus and Ethel as they sat down at a nearby table a few moments later – "Maybe within five minutes," the librarian amended.

As soon as they walked over to the table, Marcellus invited the two of them to sit down – although it was difficult to manage small talk about the weather, the food and the decorations when there was such a pressing question to be answered. Was Marcellus' scheme the reason why Miss Toffelmier and Mr. Britt were here together, and, if it were, had it been sufficient to help Marce win the principled Sunday school teacher's blessings?

While Marian was carefully watching every interaction between Harold and Marcellus with unusually intent interest, she seemed to realize quickly that neither one would reveal the information she was seeking so easily. The music professor suspected that Marian could sense how eager he was to talk with Marcellus alone for a minute – he could have sworn that she gave him a brief, knowing smile before she invited Ethel to get a cup of cider with her. Perhaps she was planning to see how much Ethel knew about this situation, too. Either way, as soon as the ladies had departed, Harold immediately turned to Marcellus with a grin.

"I see that Ethel's sister isn't here alone," he said with a pointed glance toward the new and happy couple.

Marce let out a low chuckle, sidling his chair a bit closer to Harold's so he could speak without being heard. "I was a little afraid that she might be planning on being a nun, religious gal like that. I mean, I guess she'd have to be Catholic for that, but I swear that if I've ever met anybody who'd make a great nun, it'd be Myrtle. But, hey, turns out that she's been carrying a torch for Mr. Britt there ever since she saw the way he goes into church and prays by himself on Sunday evenings, like she does. She'd thought she might be the woman to save him from his loneliness, I guess."

"And you made it happen?" Harold asked, a little incredulous that his stab-in-the-dark suggestion had turned out to be the solution to Marcellus' familial woes after all.

"I did. Once I'd heard the whole story, I had a chance to talk Olin's ear off when he came in to see about a rig. It was a big risk, because I didn't want Myrtle to hate me more for revealing a secret that she hadn't even confided to _me_ , so I started out asking if he knew her, then what he thought of her." Marcellus laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at his own good luck. "It turns out that he's adored her for _ages_. I nudged him a little – suggested that he ought to take the plunge and tell her what she means to him before he misses his chance – and when Myrtle came to Ethel, bubbling over with excitement because he'd finally done so, Ethel told her sister that this sudden change was likely to have come about due to a long conversation Olin had with yours truly. So Myrtle is _almost_ as grateful to me as she is to God," he concluded with a self-satisfied smile.

"So, the – " Harold dropped his voice even lower, lest somebody hear " – the proposal is coming soon, I take it?"

Marcellus nodded, overjoyed. "As soon as I can manage it! And I have to thank you for helping me make it happen – and I sure hope that you'll be able to pop the question yourself before too long."

Soon afterward, Marian and Ethel arrived back at the table with glasses of cider, and the men quickly returned to less-secretive avenues of conversation, but the librarian continued to examine her beau with curiosity.

Indeed, as soon as they walked out on the dance floor together and were able to talk in close proximity, Marian once again tried to coax him into revealing what he knew. He would not have been averse to telling her under different circumstances, but until it actually happened, he thought it unfair to reveal Marcellus' impending proposal to anybody – and in truth, he didn't feel comfortable bringing up the topic of proposals at all, when his own was still forthcoming!

"I'm going to get that story out of you, you know," Marian murmured as he drew her close and whirled her around.

Harold simply smiled. "I know you are – you just need to wait a little bit longer. If I told you now, see, there's a chance I'd be spoiling Marcellus' surprise. Not that I don't trust you to keep the secret."

She pursed her lips and gazed appraisingly at him. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," she sighed.

"Good, then."

Though Marian rolled her eyes at his teasing, she still settled happily into his arms as they danced together, and Harold enjoyed every moment of it, though he still regretted that he could not hold her quite as close as he would have preferred.

xxx

As the night continued, Harold did notice out of the corner of his eye that Zaneeta Shinn had made several furtive trips over to the phonograph, flicking through the records thoughtfully but quickly and then returning to Tommy with her findings.

Harold hadn't paid much mind to this odd behavior at first, but when the young man minding the phonograph began to play one popular dance after another, instead of the sedate and relatively refined music that had seemed to be the norm at this event, the professor realized that this was certainly the doing of Tommy and Zaneeta.

Some of the more reserved adults left the dance floor immediately rather than engage in such undignified dancing, but, just as they had at the Ice Cream Sociable several months ago, Harold and Marian were delighted to kick up their heels together. Along with many others, they did not know the steps to every song that played, but those who did not know still made a hearty attempt. Of course, Tommy and Zaneeta could not only perform the proper dance to each song, but they did so without seeming exhausted at all. As each song began, there were fewer and fewer people willing to dance, especially as they realized that there was no chance of a slower song playing anytime soon.

As couple after couple retreated to the sidelines, there was a strange excitement in the air, as those who had quit dancing did not return to their chairs and commence talking or eating but instead watched the dancers with rapt attention. Harold wasn't sure what they were watching for, but he couldn't help but be drawn into it as well, and when he and Marian walked from the floor, winded and reaching gratefully for the cups of cider they'd left behind, they almost automatically found themselves turning to watch the unfolding spectacle without speaking a single word, wondering how long this marathon could possibly go on.

However, it didn't take terribly long for even the youngest and most energetic of couples to recognize that they did not have it in them to compete with the mayor's daughter and her beau, and, after the sixth successive dance, the last of them finally retreated to collapse into chairs. Realizing that she and Tommy were the last couple on the dance floor, Zaneeta let out a little whoop of delight and clapped her hands.

"Why, we did it!" she proclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

"It wasn't a competition, Zee." Tommy laughed with a self-conscious shrug, though he was grinning all the while.

Zaneeta grinned broadly, unwilling to allow him to brush off this public victory. "Maybe it should have been! Nobody could hardly put up a fight against us."

She twirled herself under Tommy's arm, laughing as her blue skirts spun around her once again – and then suddenly seemed to realize that the dance had remained at an utter halt ever since the impromptu "contest" had ended, the room completely silent save for her current antics. With an apologetic expression, the mayor's daughter turned back to the young man at the phonograph.

"Um, we don't have any more requests. You can play – whatever you were going to play, otherwise," she deferred with a little bow of her head.

A titter ran through the crowd, and a few couples trickled hesitantly onto the dance floor, but Harold could still scarcely bring himself to move, instead taking another long, grateful sip off his cup of cider.

He leaned his head on his hand a drew in a deep breath. "I hope I'm not keeping you from dancing, sweetheart, but I think I might need a break for another couple songs."

"Oh, don't worry, I couldn't possibly," Marian sighed, fanning her face delicately with her hand. "I feel awfully hot – my face must be red as a tomato!"

"It isn't," Harold assured her with a smile – it was true that her cheeks _were_ very pink, but that wasn't so very out of the ordinary for her, anyway, and he found it perfectly delectable. "But perhaps we should step outside for a few minutes?"

The librarian nodded vehemently. "I think that would be wonderful."

xxx

Marian let out a sigh of relief the instant that they stepped outside, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead and then letting it fall. "Oh, this helps. It won't look well if somebody realizes that we're gone, I know, but it's only for a minute." Though there was a sharp autumnal chill in the air, she let her shawl dangle off her elbows so the breeze could brush across her skin.

Harold shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Well, it isn't exactly seemly for us to leave the place together, but it would hardly be preferable to send my lady off alone into the night, either. I'd rather stay by you, all things considered – and I could use the cool air, as well."

"As out-of-hand as it may have gotten, I did enjoy the chance to share a few more lively dances with you," she said. "It brought back some delightful memories! Though tonight is a much less bittersweet occasion, now that things are, um, _understood_ between us."

He had to smile when he heard how perfectly she'd echoed his unspoken sentiments from earlier. "Yes, and if Mayor Shinn wants anyone arrested tonight, it'll probably be Tommy Djilas, for aiding and abetting his daughter in that display back there... poor kid." He shook his head with a chuckle, wondering if Tommy was counting on the success of the upcoming concert to legitimize him in the mayor's eyes as much as _he_ was – maybe the romantic plans of both professor _and_ assistant were riding on that concert!

Now that they had cooled down a bit, they ought to have returned inside, but Harold was reluctant to give up their precious moment of privacy so easily. As he listened to the faint strains of music coming from within, he found himself wishing that they could dance together out here instead, where he could hold her as close as he wanted, could kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear without any prying eyes requiring them to keep a decorous distance.

Of course, it was probably safest that they kept themselves under River City's collective gaze for most of the night, because it would have been all too easy to get carried away. Leaning against the wall, all flushed and tousled, Marian looked positively delicious – Harold was struck with the intense longing to pull her close and dishevel her even more, and he was certain that she would enjoy it as much as he would. The thought was delicious, but he made sure not to linger on it for more than a moment, lest she see in his eyes the depths of his desire. First and foremost, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but even more than that, he didn't want to face the possibility that she might _not_ be afraid.

Trying to appear completely casual, Harold gazed up at the moon to calm his racing heart, whistling the tune of a waltz that they'd danced to earlier. After a few moments, he realized that Marian was humming along with him, and they laughed as their eyes met.

Snapping her purse open, the librarian pulled out the little box of caramels. "I realize now that I haven't yet put your gift to use yet," she said, smiling. "I wouldn't want to let the night go by without tasting a few of these!"

Selecting a caramel from the box, Marian swiftly unwrapped it and placed it in her mouth, tucking the wrapper back into her purse next to the card he'd given her.

"I do know that you have a sweet tooth, darling," said Harold with a fond smile. "It's not as though I intended the gesture to be _purely_ symbolic!"

In response, she made a pleased little _mm_ sound in the back of her throat that was not unlike the sound that she made when he kissed her particularly well, and the music professor resolved that he was going to take her into his arms the instant that she finished the treat, no matter how worried he was about his current level of self-control.

Then Marian continued chewing… and chewing, and suddenly she looked dismayed to realize just how long it would take her to finish this single piece of candy. She averted her gaze, pressed her fingertips delicately against her lips, tapped her foot against the ground – Harold broke into a grin despite himself.

By the time she'd finally swallowed it, she was flushed and giggling in embarrassment. "Well! I guess it's not the most romantic candy for you to be forced to watch me eat! I'm not sure if _any_ candy is romantic, but – oh, it would have been less awkward if I'd offered _you_ one, but I couldn't, not with my mouth full –"

Harold suppressed the powerful urge to laugh aloud, aware that his beloved could believe such a response to be directed at _her_ instead of the absurd situation. "Maybe I should have given you marshmallows instead," he remarked with a wry smile.

"Or maybe I should have just taken a page from your book and placed one of these caramels right in your mouth without asking permission," she declared, eyes flashing with mischief.

"Touché – I'd have deserved that," he conceded with a laugh. He stepped even closer to her then, dropping his voice so low that no one could have possibly heard him except her. "But, you know, I think I'd rather just find out how sweet _you_ taste right now."

Her eyes swept over their surroundings quickly – presumably, she was making extra sure that they did not have company – and then met his again with startling intensity. "Why don't you, then?" she challenged.

Leaning against the wall, her hands folded behind her back in a deceptively demure pose, Marian looked utterly beguiling. There was a glimmer of fire in her eyes as she gazed at him, a fire that he suspected that she didn't even know was there even as they moved into a kiss so seamlessly that neither one could have known who started it.

But he could feel that fire in the way that her lips moved against his, and the way that she parted them so willingly as he deepened their kiss, allowing his tongue to run luxuriously over hers, wonderfully sweet with the candy she'd just eaten. It was there in the way that her fingertips slid across the back of his neck and into the soft fringe of hair there, and in the involuntary, nearly inaudible sounds of delight that hummed low in her throat. They had been courting for over two months, and had shared many kisses over that time, but this was the first time that Marian had seemed so confident in his embrace, so utterly comfortable with him.

When he reluctantly pulled back from their kiss, his darling looked up at him in dreamy satisfaction, and though her cheeks were flushed pink, she showed no sign of embarrassment whatsoever.

"You _are_ sweet," he murmured approvingly, his thumb stroking her soft, blushing cheek.

"In what sense?"

"All of them, of course."

On a soft giggle, Marian pulled him back to her for another kiss, and, surrounded by the scent and warmth of her body in the midst of the chilly night, their hearts still pounding from the exertions of their dancing, Harold felt compelled to do something daring. Kissing along her jawline and then lower, he allowed his lips to explore the smooth curve of her neck.

He was extremely careful to do nothing that would leave a mark, simply kissing her and fluttering his tongue lightly against her skin from time to time. But even that was enough to make her fidget and sigh, her breath coming just a little faster than before.

Harold had kissed Marian lightly and briefly on the neck before, but he had never explored the area so completely. He could lose himself in how soft she was, he thought, the sweet curve of her neck providing a tantalizing hint of how the rest of her body's curves must feel. Through her clothes he could feel the stiffness of her corset, however, and he was caught up in thinking how much softer she would be without it – and it was only a few small steps from there to imagining how gloriously soft Marian would feel if she were wearing nothing at all. He was vaguely aware how very wrong it was for him to be thinking that way, but he was so thoroughly intoxicated by her that he couldn't bear to stop a single thing.

"Oh, Harold," she gasped, pulling him closer and making it more difficult than ever to keep from kissing her harder. "That – that feels – "

Evidently, she wasn't thinking clearly enough to finish her sentence, and the professor was almost relieved that she didn't – he was certain that whatever she would have said would have compromised his self-control in an instant. But he knew right then that her voice speaking those words was going to pervade his dreams regardless, that imagining how she might sound finishing that sentence was going to make his fantasies of her all the more torturous.

As much as he tried not to let his mind run in that direction, he couldn't help thinking of how easily he could take her hand and run off into the thicket of trees behind the Opera House with her, where they would surely find some secluded, soft place to lay down together and finish what they'd started, free of any risk of interruption – while the rest of the town danced, nobody would really notice that they were missing, and certainly nobody would ever hear a thing as he finally coaxed the first ecstatic moans from the loveliest creature he'd ever seen…

The instant he fully realized just what he was thinking and _when_ , Harold's conscience kicked in just in time to give him a sharp slap. Guilt surged through him with enough force to finally restore his willpower. True, it wasn't as though he didn't have thoughts like this every single day, but he generally had enough self-control to keep his fantasies at bay when he was actually in her presence! As quickly as he could without alarming her, the professor extricated himself from her all-too-warm embrace.

All he needed to get himself under control – at least, in addition to his newly-honed sense of right and wrong – was a moment to focus on how cold it really was, Harold reasoned. Leaning a hand against the brick wall of the building, he took in a deep breath of the chilly night air and forced his thoughts down the most mundane avenues he could conceive of, furiously reviewing the various musical scales and taking stock of his store's inventory in his mind, until the forbidden images were well out of his mind's eye and he could trust himself to be a gentleman again.

As Marian gazed back at him, glowing with both innocence and ardor in a way that drove him mad, Harold felt like an absolute heel, even though his only real transgression had taken place entirely within his mind.

His dear little librarian, however, did not seem inclined to blame him. Blushing, trying to shake the fog of passion from her mind, Marian tugged her shawl close around her shoulders – though two fingers still rested on the unmarked skin of her neck that his lips had tasted moments before, and she seemed thrilled with the few blissful moments they'd managed to steal. "I think we'd better head inside – we've been tempting fate by hoping that nobody else comes out for some air!" she said, and Harold suspected that she'd also been a bit startled by her own response to his kisses. The idea made him feel a little less guilty about his own actions, but also a good deal more worried about how thin the line separating their passions was becoming.

Trying not to concentrate unduly on the way the word _tempting_ had sounded in that soft, beguiling voice of hers, he gave her a tremulous attempt at his usual grin. "You're right, sweetheart. We don't want such a lovely moment together to end in embarrassment!"

In fact, it seemed as though they had come hair-raisingly close to an unwanted intrusion after all – just as they made their way back in the building, a pair of giggling teenage lovebirds that he was pretty sure Tommy had once pointed out as Archie and Madeline darted past them, heading for the very same door from which they had just emerged. Marian shot Harold a pointed, relieved glance as it happened.

"We very nearly overstayed our welcome, it seems," she whispered.

"Well, I was getting a little antsy to dance with you again, anyway." He smiled as he listened to the slow, sentimental music that filled the room – while he might have preferred to cozy up to her outside, it was still romantic enough to dance together in here, and a great deal safer.

He raised her hand to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. "May I have this dance, my love?"

"This dance and every other," Marian responded, and she pulled him to the dance floor with joy glowing in her eyes.

xxx

After the surprisingly heated interlude they'd shared just outside the Opera House, Harold knew that it would not be prudent to risk stealing any more moments alone tonight. But prudence had never been his strong suit, and he had pulled her in for another deep, delicious kiss as soon as they'd arrived on her porch, although less-secluded circumstances prevented their embrace from going too far this time. Still, he could barely stand to let her go inside and leave him standing there, and she seemed similarly reluctant – it was only their awareness of the impending arrival of Mrs. Paroo and Winthrop that kept them from remaining entwined on the porch swing indefinitely. True, it was chilly outside, but with Marian in his arms, Harold could not feel anything but warm.

Even after she'd finally slipped inside, the professor half wanted to call up to her room like a lovesick Romeo, inventing excuse after excuse just to remain in her company, just so this night could continue. And speaking of _Romeo and Juliet_ , what was that line that had amused him so, that seemed so appropriate now?

_O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?_

Of course, there was no further satisfaction that Harold could have tonight, as a proposal was not yet possible and anything _else_ , unthinkable _._ But that couldn't keep him from dreaming, and all the way home, he imagined what it would be like if they were going home _together_ at long last, where he could ease that beautiful lilac dress off her shoulders and kiss her in far, far more intimate places than her lips and her neck…

A wave of guilt swept through him once again. The caramels had been a promise, and he felt like he was breaking it already, mere hours after he'd made it – or, at the very least, being wildly hypocritical by promising to treat her honorably while fantasizing desperately about her as soon as she was out of sight. When he contrasted his fierce lust to her untouched purity, the urgency of his wanting with the impossibility of following through on it any time soon, Harold was burdened by the reminder that he would never be a good enough man for her.

_But you're not made of stone, and neither is she_ , he reminded himself.

Neither was she – that was the most alluring part, and the most dangerous. No matter how innocent she was of carnal matters, no matter what her Victorian upbringing may have led her to believe about the nature of a lady, Marian Paroo was a woman of intense passions. If she had anything at all in common with stone, it wasn't the cold, impassive type, but the kind that struck sparks. Together, they were flint and steel, held just barely apart by morals and propriety, and when they were married at last, he was pretty certain that she was _not_ going to wish for him to be any less passionate than he was. It was just one more way in which they were perfectly well-matched for each other.

There were few things that Harold was more familiar with than physical desire – even for a man, Harold was fairly certain that he felt it more strongly than most. In the not-so-distant past, the fulfillment of those desires, whenever and with whomever he found them, had frequently been at the forefront of his mind, but his transformation from a cad to a gentleman was not enough to temper those desires to the level that propriety demanded. In fact, being in love had made them more powerful than he had ever thought possible before. Even as he had transformed himself into the perfect gentleman for Marian, even after his love and regard for her had become the primary motivators in his life, he still wanted her so badly that it was all he could think about at times. He had never known a woman so beautiful and alluring as his dear librarian, and he had never wanted anything so desperately as he wanted to explore every inch of her naked body, to feel her skin flush against his, to teach her how much pleasure her body was capable of experiencing and watch her discover sensations that she could not yet imagine – and also to finally learn for himself what it was like to truly make love, not simply gratify his base appetites.

And he had _seen_ the heat in Marian's gaze tonight. He was sure that she didn't know it, but there was some part of her, some deep and hidden primal yearning, that wanted to run away into the thicket as much as he had, that wanted him to do every single forbidden, heated thing that had ever crossed his mind about her. For now, he was thankful that she was so unconscious of the sheer passion that she held inside her – he didn't think he would be capable of keeping his desires in check if it weren't for her maidenly reserve.

Oh, she would discover it eventually – the idea of that rather thrilled him – but hopefully they would be well on their way to the altar by then, because he didn't know how long he could resist a Marian who was aware of just what she wanted from him. Hell, it was enough of a struggle to restrain himself with her now. Of course, he would never push her too far before she was ready for it – but he didn't think it would be beyond the pale to let his hands slip from her waist to her hips in the midst of a passionate embrace, and yet he could easily see that small liberty turning into a lot more if he wasn't careful. Boundaries were vital – if he crossed even one, it would be all too easy to take it as a license to see just how far he could go. It wasn't difficult at all to maintain those boundaries, though, when he kept in mind his beloved's complete inexperience and his need to make sure that she could trust him completely.

But the day that she realized that she too wanted to know what was beyond those firmly defined lines, well – he would be a goner. He suspected that day was approaching rapidly, and that only made him desire her more and more. Harold hated the idea that carnal lust would be anywhere on the list of reasons to marry this wonderful woman, but he figured at the very least that it was a reason that they would be wise to tie the knot sooner rather than later.

Yet he was becoming aware that, in a certain sense, it was also a reason that he _could_ marry her at all. As distressing as it was to be losing his grip on his restraint, the very fact that Marian was beginning to struggle with the same problem meant that she was much more ready to be his wife than she'd been several months ago. Harold had long ago acknowledged several factors that had to be present before he could propose to her in good faith: he had to be free of all uncertainty about the concept of matrimony and have fully established roots in River City, she had to be truly ready for the physical relationship that marriage would entail, and the music business had to be turning a steady profit. Now it seemed that only the last condition remained – and in a couple short weeks, the band's first concert would give him the opportunity to fulfill it.

He knew that he had to be very cautious to ensure that his desire for the physical delights of marriage was having undue influence over his rational mind, but the more he thought about it, the more confident he was that that was far, far from their only reason to tie the knot soon. He had never felt so close, so completely _himself_ with anybody, after all, and they were growing closer and closer all the time – Harold had periodically opened more and more of his past to her, not wanting to gloss over the reality of what a reprehensible man she had given her heart to, and somehow, she kept loving him anyway. Marian had confessed the bitter loneliness in which she had lived the last few years, had admitted her fear of men and the even darker fear of being alone forever that had kept her awake at night, and he had simply held her close and told her that she would never be alone again. They were not perfect, but they were _them_ , and, just as Marcellus had helped him to realize, it was clear to Harold that he wouldn't let anything in the world tear them apart – and wasn't that what marriage was all about?

When he imagined the lonely, cold days of winter to come in the following months, he knew for sure that he wanted Marian to be by his side. The freedom to make love to her would be just one more wonderful thing that came along with that, but there was so much more that he wanted, and he was ready to pursue _everything_ that a life with her would entail.

And when Harold lay down in his bed at last and his thoughts inevitably turned to fantasies of that lilac dress pooling on the floor of the room that they would someday share, he no longer felt like a hypocrite. Even a lady and a gentleman were entitled to a little postmarital fun – or a _lot_ , that sounded more like it – and who could blame him if he tided himself over until then with a few delightful imaginings?

No matter how much of a gentleman Harold could be, though, he was quite determined that their first dance together as sweethearts would be their _only_ one – because he was resolved that the next time they spent a night dancing in each other's arms, their night would _not_ end there. No, next time, they would have all the privacy that they could ever want – and much more than a few stolen kisses to keep them warm long into the night.

_That_ was another promise that Harold intended to keep.


End file.
